


Texas Rules

by proval



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boundaries, Drug Use, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Road Trip, Slurs, post 7x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proval/pseuds/proval
Summary: Three years after he left for Mexico Mickey's back in Chicago. But he didn't come back for Ian.





	

He could've been a ghost.

An orangey light flooding him from the lamp, half one in the morning, work at eight tomorrow, three fucking years, a black shirt with cut off sleeves, his arms resting on the top of the couch. His arms. Melting into the furniture. Barely tanned even in this light. Too dark to see the blue in his eyes and what the fuck was he doing here? How did he know it'd be Ian who'd come down the stairs and see him? 

And stare at him across the cluttered space. Three fucking years and he should still be in Mexico. 

"Mickey." 

The smallest of acknowledgements. His pupils moving a fraction away and back to Ian's. Just standing in the Gallagher front room. His teeth grazing his bottom lip. 

He had been safe. He had been safer at least. The fuck was he doing back here now. 

"Why're you here?" 

Ian had to bite back the rising pitch of his voice. He had been safe, right. He had been safer at least. 

Mickey let his lip out from under his teeth. 

"Don't worry, didn't come here for you." 

The breath Ian was holding escaped. 

"What you doing here then?" 

"Mandy. She's in a situation. Taking her back to Mexico." 

"She in Chicago?"

Yeah. No shit. Mickey's eyes drew away.

"She in trouble?" 

Mickey's gaze on the wall. 

"Look. You wanna bang? I'm here so - "

Ian felt a faint laugh pass his lips. He didn't know how he could smile but he did.

"Does she need help? You need anything?"

Mickey scoffed. 

"Yeah, I need something, I just fucking said. Bang me or don't. Whatever." 

"Mickey, wait, come on." 

"OK, fuck you never mind." 

Mickey flicked his dead cigarette onto the couch. He looked like he was about to go but their eyes got locked together again. 

Three years and nothing. Mickey knew his number, and the number of the burner he'd got him that Ian had stupidly kept under his bed, just in case. Mickey knew his address, obviously. Mickey knew how to get word to him. Now he was here with just a hard stare and apparently fucking on the cards and Mandy in trouble and it was a whole lot of shit to take in at once. 

Leaving Mickey at the border. Ian regretted it and also didn't regret it. 

It had been the right thing for him then. 

It was hard to think about that faced with Mickey himself, though. Hard not to want to scream at himself for not spending the last three years with the guy. Missing out on whatever happened that made him slightly older, angrier than last time, harder even though he'd just come from prison then. Something else too. Less in love with Ian. Maybe not in love with Ian at all. Just an opportunistic bang again, like the old days, except... worse than the old days because that was all going somewhere and this felt a lot more like closing something up. Scratching an itch and shutting it down. Reminding yourself you can live without it. 

Really? Or was Mickey still a sucker for self-punishment, like Ian? Except always more hopeful really. Just permeated with hope. Hope and resilience. That shit was never smothered before.

"Ey, Gallagher." Mickey breaking away from his eyes, turning to the door. "You know what I'm offering. Take it or leave it." 

"How do I find you?" 

"I'll be back." 

Mickey gave Ian the finger over his shoulder as he left, the door shutting abruptly after him, the revving of an engine after a cold quiet moment. Fucking Schwarzenegger style. Fucking Mickey. Another offer out of the blue from the guy who haunted Ian's life. 

Only this time the proposition was way less consequential.

Make a life with me in Mexico had turned into bang me one last time. And Mickey wasn't really safe here was he? Why the fuck did he have to come back? Was Mandy in that bad of a situation? Ian wasn't that surprised. Mickey was one impulsive fucker. The bravest person in the world. 

*

Ian went to work the next morning, only slightly late, body on autopilot, mind not really thinking much at all, just hoping to hell that Mickey was being careful.

He'd tried texting Mandy's old number last night and got a message failure back. 

It was weird that Mickey had been there and they hadn't done anything. Ian hadn't even touched him. They'd just stared at each other. 

He'd thought about Mickey a lot after he'd gone. Let himself miss him which he hadn't done the time before. Let himself think about him and how he was and them together trying hard not to project any of his own shit onto it. It was hard to be objective, obviously. Impossible really. But he kept coming up with the conclusion that he'd screwed up in so many ways. He used to think that Mickey saw all this goodness in him, too much goodness, that Ian couldn't live up to it, but maybe Mickey had actually just loved him for him, whatever that was, whoever that was, and shit. Shit did he love Mickey. Back in Chicago. Back in Canaryville. 

Ian had wanted to run to Mickey, to touch him, but it was like there had been a force-field around him, kind of like those old defences Ian had to pick at carefully, but not really. It was new. Fresh boundaries. Now there was a whole different distance between them to navigate. 

He thought about the offer, not that it took much thinking. Sure, he couldn't really imagine how it would be healthy for either of them in the long run to fuck or whatever and then not see each other again, but Ian trusted Mickey to be in tune with his needs enough that he wouldn't be asking unless it was what he wanted and he could handle it. And if it's what Mickey wanted, then, there was no way in hell Ian was going to deny it him. 

Shit, not like it'd be some kind of self-sacrifice on Ian's part anyway. He'd do it and he'd love it. That was all there was to it. 

But his chest wouldn't stop aching. 

Mickey was here. Mickey wasn't _here_ here. Mickey was in Chicago and fuck he wasn't safe at all and fuck he was going to leave again. 

*

Four days half in and half out of it, kind of. It was so hard to make himself take his night-time pill. The one that knocked him out. What if Mickey came round?

And yeah, he did, but Ian had taken it. 

A couple of stones hit Ian's bedroom window. He was outside. Romantic, Mickey. Ian dragged himself out of bed, down the stairs, out to the porch, all heaviness and Mickey Mickey Mickey. 

His eyes were shining across the yard. Face illuminated by the street lamp. One eyebrow arched. Chewing on his lip.

 _So?_

"Mick..." Ian couldn't stop himself tumbling over towards him this time. 

Mickey stepped back, away from him, reaching up to grip hold of Ian's tank and keep them apart. His arms firm and knuckles grazing Ian's chest through the fabric. 

"It's freezing, man. Let's go in."

Mickey turned him around and pushed him back towards the door. 

"That my shirt?"

The door slammed heavily behind them. Hopefully not waking anyone else. Ian hadn't told them, obviously. About Mickey. 

"Uh, maybe."

Mickey scratched his cheek as Ian turned to face him. Back to business. "So?" 

"Mick, uh - yeah, fucking want you -" 

Mickey shucked off his coat, unbuckled his belt, made for Ian's (Mickey's) tank. 

Shit. Ian drew back. 

Mickey's arm hovered between them. 

It dropped. 

"What?" Mickey's tongue touched his top lip. His eyes gleamed. 

"Just, uh, just took my last antipsychotic." 

Mickey's gaze softened for a moment before dropping down. 

" _Shit_..." 

He refastened his belt. The buckling-up was loud.

"OK." Mickey put his coat back on. He was going to leave again. 

"Mickey -" 

"OK." Mickey interrupted, dragging a hand across his face. "I'll come back one more time. Two days. Probably around ten."

He reached a hand out and touched Ian's neck. Soft. Brief.

He left. 

The door banged shut too loudly again. Ian felt dopey for a hundred reasons. 

*

Only two days. Only one more time. 

They had a Gallagher lunch at the diner the next day. Only Carl hadn't made it there. Lip had knitted Franny a new hat: orange and purple. 

"Weird color combination. But thanks." Debbie said, shoving it down onto the baby's head. 

"That's pretty impressive." Ian said.

"You being sarcastic?" asked his brother. 

"No. Seriously." 

Lip started to smile, still waiting for the dig. 

"You going to make me one?" Ian asked. "You know, I really need one of those  
doilies that go on top of the toilet paper."

"Ha fucking ha." Lip grinned, turning to Franny. "Only cute babies get my quality knitwear for free." 

"Going to open up a store?" Fiona was grinning too. "Or maybe a fashion house?" 

Lip rolled his eyes, playing with the hat on Franny's head. "At least you appreciate my skill. Fucking purl stitch, kiddo."

Franny spat something up, which made Liam laugh. Ian leant back on his chair, popping down his mostly empty coffee cup. Tomorrow. He was going to see Mickey for the last time tomorrow. 

*

He couldn't do it. 

He was lying in bed and his eyes had started to leak. He couldn't watch Mickey leave again. He couldn't see him again and let him go. 

No way. He couldn't do it.

*

The next day, the day that Ian was going to see Mickey for the last time, started weirdly. Monday mornings were normally hectic as hell in the Gallagher house, but no one except Liam and Fiona were downstairs, and they were chatting quietly rather than yelling at each other. 

It was light and bright and cold on Ian's way to work. Ian was shaky, unsettled and awkward while he was there. It was a relief that he managed to get through the day without any disasters. 

It was a wonder that the evening came at all. 

10.02 and no Mickey. Ian had spent some effort persuading Fiona and Liam to go to a movie and then dropping out last minute. They'd be back at around 11.30. Giving him an hour and twenty-eight minutes. What if Mickey didn't come at all? What if he was in trouble?

He couldn't let himself think about what kind of trouble Mandy might have been in and what kind of trouble Mick might get himself in trying to get her out of it. There were too many distressing possibilities. 

10.04 and Ian was an idiot. He'd been one all of his life so why should he be surprised? Should he go look for Mickey? 

10.06 and Ian was chill. Ian was calm. He was fine. Six minutes was nothing. He just had to stop checking the time. 

10.09 and there was a knock on the door.

Mickey. 

Ian let out a breath when he opened the door.

Mickey was already taking his coat off and moving towards him, pushing him back inside, throwing his coat on the floor. Fingerless-gloved hands unbuckling his belt again. 

"We gotta make this quick. Mandy's in the car." 

_What?_ Ian stared at him. 

"Mandy's in the car?"

"Yeah she's waiting outside so." Mickey's eyes trailed down Ian's body. "Better hurry."

Ian took a step back. 

"She OK?" 

Mickey glared at him. 

"She's fucking fine." 

Ian got the point. Mickey wanted this his way or no way at all. And Ian wanted it too. He wanted him. Wanted to touch Mickey's hair, his neck, his arms, all of him. 

But this was even more excruciating than he'd thought it'd be. He couldn't play this game. Not like this. Shit. He didn't want Mickey to go. Couldn't fuck up.

"Can I see her?" 

Mickey folded his arms. Shit.

"No." 

"You're about to leave? Go back to Mexico?" 

"Didn't come here to chat, Gallagher." 

_Fuck you, Gallagher._

"Are you?"

Mickey watched him, folded his bottom lip between his teeth, stared him down. Finally, his gaze dropped. 

"Voy a casa." He murmured. He looked back up. He raised his eyebrows. "No more questions, OK?" 

Ian swallowed. His body felt strange. Light. 

Mickey's eyebrows were still high. The beginning of a smile on his face. He stepped towards Ian, hands reaching out to the button on his jeans. "OK?" 

Ian grabbed his wrists. Jesus. Mickey was here. In his hands. 

"Can I come with you?"

Silence. Mickey's arms were suddenly heavy. His face dropping, paling, closing up. His arms gone. His eyes daggers. _Shit._

"What. The. Fuck." Mickey shoved Ian away with one arm. He spat, " _Fuck you._ " 

"Mickey..." What? What was Ian doing? What was he even trying to say? "Please..." 

"Are you fucking kidding me, Gallagher?!" Mickey was furious. His eyes glinted down Ian's body, scornfully. "I knew this was a mistake." 

"Mick. I just... I miss you." 

"Boo fucking hoo, bitch." Mickey's hands went up towards his face, rubbing the heels of them in his eyes. He was crying. "You..." 

His voice cracked. He stopped. He swallowed. They looked at each other. Silence. 

Ian broke it. 

"Just let me come, just for a little bit, please. Can't watch you go again." 

Mickey recoiled. "Fuck you." He said again, holding an arm out, just in case Ian tried to approach. "I gotta... I need a smoke..." 

He turned back, grabbing his coat, fishing around for cigarettes in the pocket, opening the door. 

"You going?" Asked Ian. His voice came out raw. 

It made Mickey turn back, just for a second. 

His voice was quiet. "Gimme a minute." 

He shut the door behind him. 

Ian opened it to watch Mickey walk off. He couldn't see a car with Mandy in it. He stayed inside. Mickey disappeared from his view too quickly. Ian shut the door again. Leant against it. Closed his eyes. _Please come back._

*

Almost an hour later, Ian was leant on the couch. Had hardly moved. The door opened. 

Mickey. 

They stared at each other. 

Mick had half a cigarette between his fingers. He'd obviously smoked a whole load of them. He was obviously cold as fuck. He shivered when he walked in. His face had a blue tint to it. He looked away from Ian. He licked his top lip. 

His eyes bounced on and off Ian once more. Ian looked down. Took the pressure off. 

"You can come to Texas." 

Ian looked back at him again, quick. 

" _Texas._ Only fucking Texas." Mickey continued. He glared up at him. "And my fucking rules." 

"OK." 

"OK?" Mickey chucked the cigarette. Again, at the couch. 

"Yeah."

Mickey nodded. "We're off Park. You not out by 11.30, we're gone. Last time I'm waiting for your ass." 

Then he was out again, and Ian was breathing heavily. Fuck. Holy shit. OK. 

*

Not much time to pack, Ian got his meds sorted out first. He had about two-months worth of them. Wouldn't take that long to get to Texas, obviously. He packed them all anyway. His mind was a blur. 

He'd probably forgotten shit. It didn't matter. Holy shit.

Mickey and Mandy were in a blue Volkswagon Golf. Ian's heart jumped. Mandy. 

They were occupying the front seats, smoking. Their expressions were exactly the same when they caught sight of Ian. Hard. Challenging. Fucking Milkoviches. 

Mandy grinned and winked at him in the rear-view mirror when Ian got in the back, though. Mickey just revved the engine and drove. Much faster than necessary. 

"Hey, _Ian._ " Mandy turned around and kneeled on her seat to grin at him some more as Mickey eased off the gas a bit. "Coming on a road trip, huh?" 

Ian smiled at her. "I was worried about you." 

"We were worried about you too." Mandy leant over the seat to play with Ian's hair. 

"Bitch, cut that out." Mickey muttered, elbowing her out of his way. 

Mandy drew back to laugh at him. "Gonna do the asshole routine for a while, huh?" 

"Not a fucking routine." 

"Whatever." 

They drew to a stop at a light and Mickey's eyes searched Ian out in the rear-view mirror. 

"You got your meds?" He asked. 

And fuck it hurt. Like a burn up his body. That Mickey had gone back to not trusting him about this. And probably, definitely, about so much more. Ian swallowed it all down.

"Yup." He said, turning his attention to the lights out of the window. 

_Goodbye, Southside. Goodbye, Chicago._

*

A few hours later, somewhere near Springfield, Mandy had climbed to the back with Ian, and had fallen asleep, leaning over him. They'd chatted for a bit, but she was obviously exhausted. She probably needed to recover from whatever the trouble was she'd been in. Ian hadn't asked yet. 

Mickey had been mostly silent. Ian spotted him occasionally looking at them in the mirror. His own eyes were drawn to it an embarrassing amount of times. Whenever their gazes met, Mickey looked away. 

"Maybe we should stop, soon." Ian tried. It was the middle of the night after all. 

"Another coupla hours." 

"You trying to get rid of me?" 

"Fuck you." 

Their eyes met again. 

Mickey looked back at the road. "You know what I want to do to you." 

"What?" Ian breathed. 

"I told you already. I want you to fuck me." 

" _Jesus_ , Mickey." 

"Nice and hard. You better not pass out on me again, Gallagher." 

There was a pause. Mickey's eyes found his again in the mirror. Mickey sighed. 

"If it's gonna fucking mess with you if you don't take your meds you should do it though. We can bang tomorrow I guess."

Ian swallowed. "I can skip one night. It's fine." 

"Yeah, whatever. I changed my mind. Take your fucking pills, McMurphy."

"Mick -" 

"My rules remember?" 

"Fine." Ian sighed. "Can we at least pull over then?" 

Mickey didn't answer. 

But they did pull off the road less than a half hour later. A motel. Ian didn't say anything either, just softly woke up Mandy, who was happy to drape all over him as they went in to get a room. 

The heat was off them enough, apparently, but it must have been weird for the concierge to see the three of them getting one double room. It didn't feel safe. That's what Mickey asked for. Ian didn't protest. 

Mickey watched him undress. Stared at him shamelessly as Ian got down to his boxers. It turned Ian on. It made his chest ache. 

Mickey changed into boxers and t-shirt in the bathroom. Maybe tugged one out too. 

Mandy obviously just threw most of her clothes off and climbed into the middle of the bed. She murmured sleepily, "You two are not banging with me here". 

Ian took his meds and climbed in, cuddled up to her. He was lucky this pill made him so drowsy because otherwise there's no way that he'd be sleeping. He doubted Mickey would be.

So close and so vulnerable. Ian closed his eyes and thanked God that he was still here, that he hadn't gone away again. 

* 

Mickey looked tired the next morning, chucking an empty paper cup over the bonnet of the car, as Mandy got in the driver's seat. 

"Don't know why you're so beat, asshole, we didn't even get outta Illinois." 

Mickey looked like he might say something to that but either thought better of it or was too exhausted to bother. Whichever way, Ian was grateful. 

"I'm gonna sleep in the back, man." Mickey said instead, shoving Ian aside to get in. 

Ian climbed in next to Mandy, still nursing his coffee. No comments from either of them about caffeine. Hardly any in this weak shit, anyway. 

They hadn't been moving long before Mickey was rolled up in the back, one arm hanging off the seat from under him, fast asleep and softly breathing. Mandy raised an eyebrow at Ian every time he tried to look at him. 

"Why d'you leave him at the border, Ian?" 

Mandy's voice was quiet, her eyes on the road. 

Ian sighed. 

"It was the right thing to do." 

" _Sure._ " 

They were silent again, passing dotted houses and trees just beginning to grow back leaves. 

It had been the right thing to do, right? Mandy didn't believe it was, and Ian was starting to doubt it, too. 

But now he knew that Mickey had been alright, that Mickey had survived, and hadn't needed him, and didn't need him now, it meant there was no reason for Ian to regret it, right? Doing what had felt safe, what had felt sensible, for himself. 

"You gonna do it again?" 

Ian looked at her. She was wearing shades, concentrating on the road, long black roots and shiny blonde hair flapping around her face from the window, opened just a fraction. Did she really think Ian had that kind of power, anymore? No. Mickey was going to leave _him_ , this time around, if they were even going anywhere. 

"Not up to me." He said, eventually, and Mandy let out a harsh laugh. 

Ian had rung his work before he got in the car that morning to say he was going to be off for a week. Mental health. It felt shitty to use it like that but then, he hardly ever took any time off. And they didn't want him there if he was unbalanced. So. 

He wasn't unbalanced at all. This whole situation probably should have been more of a trigger. Maybe it was going to be, or maybe he just hadn't realised yet that leaving with Mick and Mandy was the start of a manic episode. Or maybe he was fine. 

He glanced back at Mickey again. Still sleeping. Still feeling safe enough to rest. 

"You'd tell me if I started acting manic, right?"

Mandy softened at that. 

"Yeah, Ian." She hit him lightly on the arm. "But you seem stable. You seem good." 

Good. Was he good? Was Mandy? Both of them riding a car with an escaped felon down to Mexico. (With _Mickey_ ). 

"You want to talk about the situation back in Chicago?" 

"Later." Mandy flicked on the radio, turning it down low, and biting her lip in the direction of her sleeping brother. "Mickey can deal." 

*

"Yo, swap. I wanna drive." 

Mickey flicked his sister on the back and she pulled over after cursing him out a bit. 

"You get in the back, Gallagher." Mickey grabbed his sunglasses, leaving it on no uncertain terms that he didn't want to sit next to Ian right now. 

Ian shrugged and obeyed. 

"I'm hungry." Mandy complained. "Can we get food? Why you gotta drive anyway, asshole?" 

"it's my car, bitch." 

"Your car?" Mandy laughed. "You didn't steal this piece of shit?" 

"First of all _no_ and that would make it my car, anyway. Second of all fuck you for talking about Golfy like that." 

Ian couldn't stop himself from laughing. 

"Wow. 'Golfy'?" Mickey shoved his sister as he sped up. " _Nerd._ " 

"Hey, put up or shut up. You too, Kerouac. I can leave both of you on the side of the road, remember?" 

Ian rolled his eyes and smiled, feeling light for a moment, just before the sound of sirens. 

_Shit._

They pulled over a few moments later. 

"Don't do anything stupid, Gallagher." 

"Yeah. Be cool, Ian." 

Ian bit his lip, heart thumping in his chest. _Please don't take Mickey away._

Mick rolled the window down and smiled at the police officer. 

"You got licence and registration?" The guy said, rolling his eyes at Mickey's unfriendly grin. 

"Don't you gotta have a reason to pull people over?" 

"Nope." 

"Hand him the papers, asshole." 

Mickey passed them over. The officer behind the first was staring at Ian. He recognised her somewhere, maybe. 

"OK, folks. This is an urban area. Speed limit's 60 - you're pushing 65." 

"This is a fucking urban area?" Asked Mickey, gesturing around. "What, the city of trees and cows?" 

Ian felt the car getting hotter. Thinking about the 'fuck u-up' on Mickey's hands on the steering wheel. 

"Hey, um... Allison?" He began. It was Allison, right? "Ian from Crossfit? Didn't know you were a cop!"

Allison smiled. Oh, thank God. It was Allison. What was she doing all the way down here? "Hey, Ian, yeah. For my sins." 

The other guy turned around and glared at her. 

They seemed to communicate with their eyes for a moment, until the first guy gave up. He handed Mickey back his papers. 

"Fine. Make sure you take it easy, kids." 

"Who you calling kid?" Mickey muttered. 

"Licence says you're 24, Clarence. Just a baby." 

The cop tapped the top of the roof before he headed back to their car, and Allison leant down to talk to them. 

"You going somewhere nice? Long way outta Chicago." 

"We're on a road trip." Mandy said, sticking her tongue out between her teeth. 

"Aw, wish I could get the time off. See you next week for spin?" 

"Sure." Ian smiled, and Mickey started the engine again. 

" _Clarence_?" Mandy sneered, looking at Mickey's papers, as Ian watched the cop car pull off and disappear. Going... going... gone. 

Mickey ignored her, turning to glare at Ian. "You shouldn't've fucking told her who you are." 

"Did the trick, didn't it?" 

"We were fine, anyway." 

"Shut up, you two." Mandy murmured. "Dumbasses didn't even realise we have pot on the backseat." 

Ian hit her with a hard glare as she reached back to get the tin that was next to him. 

"Mandy."

Mandy smiled at him in response. "Want some?" 

Well, yeah. "Sure." 

When she got back in her seat, Mickey had turned to give her one of his big dumb grins, his proud of his little sister grin. Ian had to stop himself from staring. 

"Hit the pedal, asshole. I can roll on the road." 

*

They pulled over to smoke in Fort Leonard, with plenty of snacks from a gas station. Ian's phone started buzzing in his pocket but he ignored it. They headed into the wood, finding a big graffiti-covered stone slab that overlooked the masses of trees, tumbling downwards in front of them. 

It was green and fresh. Breezy. Mickey settled down on the rock and lay back. 

Ian sat down next to him, struggling to take his eyes off of him. 

"The fuck are you looking at." 

Ian couldn't help grinning.

"You know." Mickey had always known. 

Mickey scoffed, leaning over to take the joint from Mandy, who had begun to lean back, eyes possibly closed under her sunglasses, a couple yards down on the rock.

Ian opened up the Pringles and didn't make himself look away from Mickey. 

A half hour later and Mickey was looking back at him. Eyes keen, patient, slightly lidded. 

"Still waiting for you to fuck me, Gallagher." He said, quietly enough that Mandy wouldn't hear, raising an eyebrow. 

Ian stared at him. "OK." 

Ian leant over to kiss him, but Mickey put a firm hand on his chest. 

"Let's go into the trees a bit." 

*

Mickey undid his belt as he walked, and Ian followed him through the grass, doing the same thing, until Mickey found a stump to lean over, dropped his pants fully and leant one arm back to hand Ian something. A condom. 

OK. That was fair. He took it. And just looked at Mickey, quiet, presenting his ass in the cold. 

"Gallagher." Mickey prompted. Not quiet for long. 

Ian approached him, wrapped his arms around Mickey's torso, and breathed him in. Oh fuck. It was just as... It was just as strong as it always was, giving him that high he was always startled was possible. His cock stretched at the fabric behind his jeans and rested in between Mickey's ass cheeks. He brought his hand up to move Mickey's head so he could bury his face into his neck. So he could lick it, bite it. 

Mickey drew away. "Gallagher." He said again, voice breathy. "Get the fuck on with it." 

Ian swallowed. He had to do what Mickey wanted. He rubbed himself against Mickey. He could feel his chest tightening again. 

"You got lube?" 

"I'm ready." Mickey muttered, dragging an arm back to bring Ian's hand to between his ass cheeks and feel. Slick and wet, soft. Ian groaned, extending a finger to press into Mickey. Mickey grabbed his wrist.

"No. Just want your cock."

Ian breathed in sharply. OK. He undid his fly, put on the condom and pressed in. Fuck. Fuck. 

"Fuck Mickey." 

" _Move_." 

Ian moved. 

"Fuck." Mickey grunted, quiet and breathy. "Thank fuck." 

It didn't take long for either of them. Mickey came first. He let Ian wrap around and jerk him off, moaning as his body pressed against the trunk, biting into his bottom lip.

Then a dozen more thrusts and Ian collapsed onto him, heavy, hot, still inside, still trying to get his mouth onto Mickey's throat as Mickey pulled away. Pulled up his pants, turned, leaning back, grinning. 

" _Jesus fuck_ that was good." His voice was loose and unguarded. It made Ian's heart sing, and Ian leant into him, aching to put their lips together, to -- 

"Don't try to fucking kiss me."

Mickey slid around him, re-looped his belt.

Ian stared at him. Unbelievable. 

"Seriously? We're going back to..."

"We're not going anywhere. We're just banging." Mickey's smile had completely faded now. He looked at Ian, hard. 

Ian shook his head. He started to put himself together again. Do up his pants. Couldn't stop looking back up at Mickey. His face red, sweaty. 

"Really, Mick? You think that me and you can just bang?" Mickey stepped back again, shrugging. Ian moved towards him. "You know that I... you know I love you." 

Silence. Mickey was still, softening, looking up at Ian. Then his eyes hardened again. His gaze flicked down.

"Do I." 

Mickey stepped back, bringing his mouth into a sort of grimace, nodding slowly at Ian. 

"Rule number two. You don't say shit like that to me." 

"Rule number... ? What's rule number one?" 

"No kissing." 

"Jesus, Mickey. You're pissed at me. I get it. But this is... You think this will stop you getting hurt?" 

Mickey's hard gaze faltered for a moment then recovered itself. 

"No," he said, head tilting to one side, eyes squinting in the sun. "Obviously not." 

* 

When they got back to the rock, Mandy's eyes sparkled at them. She put her tongue into the inside of her cheek and made a crude gesture. 

Mickey gave her the finger. 

Ian ignored her. He wanted to wrap Mickey up in his arms, make sure he was alright, make sure he felt safe, make sure he felt loved. 

But he wasn't allowed, and Mickey didn't want that. And maybe Mickey hadn't been as alright as Ian had thought he had. Wasn't alright at all. His chest ached. 

He got in the back without asking. He didn't look up at the other two in the rear-view mirror. At Mickey. He stared out the window as they got back on the road. He jutted out his chin. 

The forest stretched out to his left. He felt a tear trail down his cheek. 

*

They stopped, late. Somewhere in Oklahoma. 

Mickey booked two rooms this time. Fine. Who knew what that meant? He'd gone off to buy beers. 

Mandy lit up on the car bonnet. Offered some to Ian. He said no. Sat next to her. It was warmer. They looked up at the sky, at the stars. They were so bright out here. There were so many. Ian couldn't stop himself from remembering last time. With Mickey. 

"Is Mickey OK?" He asked. 

"Shit, Ian. Isn't that your territory?" 

"You know much about what happened with him in Mexico? In prison?" 

Mandy shook her head. "Not much. He's doing OK now. But he was pretty strung-out when he first got over the border. Pretty lonely and scared to start with." 

Ian nodded. "Are you OK?" 

"Glad to be seeing the back of America." 

Mandy took a long drag, watching Ian smile. 

"You going to stay in Mexico for long?" 

"Dunno. Depends." Mandy looked at him. "You coming?" 

Ian shrugged. "I told you it's not up to me." 

"Whatever. You want to come?"

Ian didn't reply. They looked up at the stars. 

"What happened in Chicago?" 

"Terry." 

Ian turned to her, his chest clenching. "Seriously?" 

"Yup." 

"And Mickey came up?" 

"Mickey and my other brothers tried to kill him." 

"What? Fuck. Did they?" 

"I fucking wish." 

"Me too." 

"He's back in jail though. And I'm outta there." 

"Did Terry see Mickey?" 

"No."

"Can't believe Mickey came back for him." Ian was filling up with tension. 

"Hey." Mandy punched him. "He came back for me. He fucking loves me." 

Ian softened. "I know. I wish I could've helped." 

"Help _now_ , asshole." 

Ian draped an arm around her shoulder. Gripped his fingers into her arm. 

* 

Mickey didn't want to hang around outside. He gave Mandy a key and a few beers and gestured at Ian with his head. 

"Let's go, Gallagher. Got a bed now." 

Ian looked at Mandy. 

She smiled at him. "Go ahead." 

He was pretty reluctant to leave her, but Mickey was looking at him. And if Mickey was going to leave, anyway, then Ian would follow. 

They climbed up to the room, Mickey pushing Ian through the door and taking off his coat immediately again. Going for his belt. 

"Mickey." Ian said, trying to stop his arms. "Mandy told me about Chicago. About Terry." 

Mickey looked up at him, cold. "Don't talk about that." 

"Mick, come on." 

"I just want you to fuck me, Gallagher, alright?" He reached across to Ian's pants, ready to undo them. "Got myself ready again so might as well just get on me." 

Ian shook him off. 

"Feel like a fucking dildo here, Mick. Like you don't actually need me." 

"You know I... " Mickey took a step away, looking up at Ian. 

Ian swallowed, fought to keep himself from tearing up. "I don't..." 

Mickey stared at him. Eyes bright blue in the white light from the lamp. "We don't gotta do this if you don't want. Fuck, I don't wanna force you into anything." 

"You're not."

"Ian, if you're not cool with this, we don't have to do anything. You can still come to Texas." 

"It's OK, Mick. You're not forcing me. I just..." 

"Am I hurting you?" 

"No. Well, maybe. But that's my fault." Ian stopped. "Just, can we talk?" 

Mickey shook his head. "I got nothing to say to you." 

"Yeah, well. I've got shit I want to say to you." 

Mickey stared at him, biting into his lip. "Okay."

*

They sat outside the room, legs dangling off the walkway. Mickey lit a cigarette, waiting for Ian to talk. 

"I'm sorry I didn't go to Mexico with you, Mickey." Mickey flinched, looked away. "Leaving you at the border, it was shitty. I didn't know until I got down there that I was going to feel like that. Wanted to go with you but... I just didn't feel like I could look after you, like I was ready, like I was stable enough. I mean, I was just starting to get stable."

Mickey took a drag, looked at Ian. "You feel better now?" 

"Yeah." Ian nodded. Quiet. "I've grown up a lot, I guess. You know I'm not ever going to be perfect. Or, you know, even, healthy. In the normal way." 

"I would've looked after you." Mickey's eyes were wet, gleaming.

"I know." Ian held his gaze. "I needed to look after myself then. That's what I wanted. But I should've... I know you needed someone to look after you."

"Fuck off." Mickey was quiet. He rubbed his cheek. "Still got that boyfriend?" 

"Nah." Ian took the cigarette from Mickey's offering hand. "We broke up soon as I got back. Told him I'd been with you." 

Mickey nodded. He looked down onto the street below. 

"There's been other guys though." 

Mickey shrugged. "It's been three fucking years." 

"I missed you." 

"Yeah." Mickey bit into his bottom lip again, glanced back at Ian. "Rule number two." 

"Sorry."

"It's OK." Mickey took the cigarette back, took a long drag. 

"Can we put a kibosh on rule number two for a second?" 

Mickey stared at him. Shit. Maybe not. 

Eventually, he nodded. Still staring. 

"Do you want me to come to Mexico with you?" 

Mickey's eyes widened. He shook his head. He leant back.

"I got a pretty good life and I don't need you. I'm not gonna invite you to come and join it." 

OK. Ian nodded. His own eyes were starting to sting. 

"Can I come to Mexico with you?" 

Mickey blinked. He rubbed at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. 

"You wanna come?" 

"Yeah." 

"And you're not gonna dump me at the border with a load of bills like some worn out bitch again?"

Ian sighed. "No, Mick." 

"I don't know." Mick tossed his cigarette butt into the street. He got up. "I don't trust you." 

*

Ian and Mandy slept in the same bed. Mickey on his own. 

"No, it's what I want. Least I'll get to sleep this way. Can't fucking lie next to you without my heart hammering out my chest." 

"Yeah, me too." 

"OK. Night, Gallagher." 

"Hey, Mick?"

"Yeah?" 

"If home is where the heart is, does that mean home is in your chest?" 

"The fuck, Gallagher? What have I told you about trying to be funny?" 

"Do it more?" 

"Night, Ian." 

*

"Gallagher." Mickey stopped him as he was opening the back door of the VW. "Get in the front." 

"Oh, he's got a promotion now you've felt the magic dick, huh?" Mandy pressed her sunglasses up her nose. "What if I want to go up front?" 

"Yeah, your music choice is shitty, Mandy." Mickey climbed into the driver's seat. "And I wanna feel him up on the road." 

Mandy opened her mouth in disgust, staring at Ian. "He get a choice in this?" 

Mickey sighed, looking up at Ian out the open window and raising his eyebrows. "That alright by you, Gallagher?" 

Ian widened his eyes at Mandy, smiled and climbed in next to Mickey. "Yeah, that's alright by me." 

Mandy was probably right to be pissed. 

This new version of Mickey was strange, all over the place. Hot, cold, angry, horny. Last time they'd done this trip Mickey had been smiley as fuck. Three years ago. Couldn't wipe the grin from his face. Mickey's smile was so beautiful, so pure. Ian might be corny, but he missed it, hard. As much as he wanted Mickey's hand crawling from the gearshift to his thigh, he wanted that smile back more. 

Beggars, choosers, etc. Ian would take what he was given. 

But to be honest, any version of Mickey was golden. 

"Not actually gonna feel you up." Mickey murmured in his ear when Ian sat down. "Choose some good fucking music, OK?" 

*

They would be in Texas soon, and then Ian wasn't sure what was going to happen. If he was supposed to leave as soon as they got there or before the border or not at all. 

He was pretty sure it wasn't going to be the first one, but he was still worried about it as they went over the river into the state. 

Neither Mandy nor Mickey said anything when they did. The VW rattled on down the road. 

On Ian's left, Mickey sometimes had one hand on the wheel, either a 'fuck' or a 'u-up', leaning his other elbow out the window, or bringing a smoke to his mouth and closing his lips around it, or other times gripping the gearshift right next to Ian, folding his palm round it, stroking up its shaft.

Whenever Ian had to readjust himself on the seat, Mickey would chuckle next to him. 

They pulled up to a burger place for lunch and Ian went to the bathroom, sorted himself out, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

Another missed call from Lip. He stared at it for a moment before ringing back. Lip picked up almost immediately.

"Hey, man. You OK?" Lip chuckled a little, with that false light voice he used on Ian when he felt like he needed to be careful. "Freaks me the fuck out when you don't answer your phone." 

"Yeah, fine. What's up?" 

" _Nothing_ just wondering where the hell you are? You missed dying of dysentery from Carl's cooking last night." 

Ian sighed. Paused a moment, scratched his cheek. Not that Lip could see him. He didn't know how honest to be.

"I'm uh..." He closed his eyes. "I'm kind of taking a trip." 

"Yeah? Where to?" The lightness gone. 

"Uh, Texas maybe? Maybe Mexico?" 

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Ian braced for the questions about meds, about hypomania, the urgent and firm _come home, Ian, you're sick_. 

Lip's voice was quiet instead, tentative. 

"Mickey?" 

Ian's heart hammered. How did he know? 

"Shit, Lip. What has he been on the news or something?" 

"No." 

"So what the fuck?" 

"I _don't know_ Ian, why the fuck else would you be going to Mexico? That's where he is, right?" 

The chances were slim, but he didn't want to put Mickey in any danger. And Lip deserved something like the truth, maybe. 

"Right."

Silence again. Ian's heart beat slowing down. Some other guy coming into the bathroom. 

"You coming back?" 

Ian bit his lip. "Uh, maybe. I don't know." 

He heard Lip sigh on the other end of the phone. Fuck, Ian felt bad. He should've told Lip before he left. _When_ though? But still, he shouldn't have to--

"Ian, you know I've got to ask you this. You feeling OK?" 

Ian closed his eyes. There it was.

"Yeah. I think so. I mean, I'm fine. Taking meds, sleeping eight hours, got Mandy checking up on me."

" _Mandy_?" 

"Yeah."

A breath and a shuffle on the other end of the line.

"S'good you're not on your own." 

Ian breathed. 

"Sorry." 

"Just ring me the fuck up if you need anything." 

The line went dead. 

Ian put his phone away, dodged the guy now leaving the bathroom to find his own reflection in the mirror. 

He looked OK, a little tired and scruffy maybe. He hadn't shaved this morning and the back of his hair was sticking up. Lip had been surprisingly, uh... willing to believe him when he'd said he was fine. 

Guess it had been some time now of doing better, sometimes fucking up and sometimes not fucking up, and Lip had gotten pretty skilled of telling Ian's moods. 

Ian flattened his hair a little, turning away from himself. 

He hadn't even asked how Lip was doing. 

*

"Take a shit or something?" Mandy grinned, pushing a plate towards where Ian had sat down. "Had to order for you." 

"Phone call." 

Mickey looked up from where he was studiously taking the lettuce out of his burger. 

"Who was it?" 

Ian rubbed his mouth, looking down at his own burger, not really hungry. 

"Uh. Lip. Looks good." 

He picked it up and took a bite. He knew they weren't going to drop it, anyway. 

"What did that asshole want?" 

"Probably checking his brother hasn't fucking lost it." 

"Can we just eat?" 

"Fine." 

"Whatever." 

Milkoviches could be really frustrating sometimes. 

* 

"We could just drive into Mexico today." Mandy hummed as she tossed a cigarette and got into the driver's seat. "Get outta this hellhole country before they build that fucking wall." 

"Yeah, well we've got to stop off don't we?" Mickey sat next to her and took a drag on his own cigarette. "End of the line for some." 

Ian sighed, scratched his arm and climbed in the back. Mickey leant round to offer him some of the cigarette. Ian took it. 

"You wanna stay the _night_?" Mandy was definitely grinning at Mickey, though Ian couldn't really see. And Mickey was definitely scowling back at her. 

"What d'you think, Gallagher? You wanna stay the night?" 

Ian swallowed. 

"Yeah." 

He wanted to stay with them forever.

*

They stopped once they'd passed San Antonio. Mandy put Tupac on the car stereo and they ate sandwiches on the bonnet not really talking. After, when Mickey split open a second pack of Reese's, Ian started doing pull-ups on a nearby scaffold. 

"That fucking pointed?" 

Mandy laughed and swiped one of the cups. Mickey watched Ian. 

" _Hot_." Mandy said, grinning at Ian, then her brother. 

"He does this all the time. Thinks he's some kinda tough guy or something." Mickey rubbed under his bottom lip. 

Ian smiled at him. 

It was getting dark but the sky was too cloudy or there was too much light pollution so there were only about three stars. But still, it was so good to be there under them, with Mickey and Mandy, for however long it lasted. 

*

"We can do it your way." 

They'd just got through the door of their motel room, and Mickey was staring at him. 

"What do you mean?" 

Mickey leant into him. Pressed his lips against Ian's softly. He drew back, to Ian's ear.

"This way." 

Ian pinned Mickey against him, found his lips again. Reached up to hold the back of Mickey's head in place, to push his tongue into his mouth, to properly kiss him. Fuck. This was... this was the best way. Fuck Mickey's rules. 

Mickey resurfaced first. Grabbing a fistful of Ian's shirt. Staring at his lips. 

"Let me..." He murmured, "Let me suck you off." 

Ian's heart pounded. He pulled Mickey back to his mouth. "OK." He whispered, between kisses. "OK, Mickey." 

Mickey drew down, down his body, unbuckling Ian's pants as he went. Bringing them down. Ian took off his own shirt. Brought Mickey back up again. 

"Wait. Wait. Not yet," He kissed him again, Mickey's hands sliding against Ian's bare torso, breaking off so he could pull his own shirt off, back again, rolling his thumbs over Ian's nipples, as Ian pulled his head to the side, to kiss and nip at Mickey's throat and Mickey moaned, the air coming through tautening it, and Mickey smelling so... Mickey's eyes fluttering closed as Ian bit his neck, drawing his nails up and down Mickey's back. Down, over his ass, still under denim, squeezing, running to his thick thighs, and then, pushing Mickey back against the wall. Holding him there against it, firm. Ian leant back and Mickey's head followed his movement until he couldn't get any further, staring up at Ian, pupils blown, lips wet, swollen. Ian crashed their lips together again, hands finding Mickey's waist, squeezing, feeling Mickey squirm and tremble under him. Ian drew back. 

"This is better." 

Mickey nodded, mouth open. Too far gone to protest. "Let me suck you off." He said again, turning them both around, so Ian was against the wall instead and sliding down his body once more. 

To Ian's boxers. His hands clenched around Ian's ass. His strong arms, firm. He nuzzled his face into Ian's crotch. Breathing in deep. 

"Mick..." Ian murmured, hardening even more, rapidly. 

"Mmm..." Mickey said, nuzzling and panting through the fabric. Pulling away, pulling the shorts down and staring, mouth open, wetting his lips with his tongue. 

"Mickey." Ian passed a hand over his hair, gripping a little. Bringing the other down to Mickey's face, to his cheek, his chin. "Mickey, look at me." 

Mickey did. His mouth open, his eyes big and black, thin piercing blue irises, a wet sheen across them. 

"You OK?" Ian asked, stilling his hand. 

"I --" Mickey stared up at him. "I don't want to be a little bitch --"

"Shhhh," Ian felt himself flood with adrenaline, his hand gripping Mickey's hair again, stroking. "Shhh, no you're not. What's wrong?" 

Mickey blinked away a couple of tears. His voice broke. "I don't want you to leave me." 

Ian sank to his knees, holding Mickey's face between his hands. Level with him. "No. No. I won't. I'm not going to." 

Mickey stared at him. Eyes so big. "You swear?" 

Ian slotted their mouths together. Kissed him. Deep. Pressing Mickey into him. When he drew back Mickey was blinking another tear away. 

"I swear." 

Ian pulled Mickey's body into his, gripped onto it, Mickey's head slotting over his shoulder, Ian's hand tight in Mickey's hair, the other hand rolling against Mickey's back, pressing, breathing him in. Breathing each other in. 

When Mickey pulled away, he was embarrassed. He looked down. Not at Ian's eyes. 

"Let me..." He licked his lips. "I want to suck you off."

Ian smiled. "I know. You don't have to do that, now. Not if you're - We've got... we've got time."

Mickey looked at him, into his eyes. "Ian, get up. Let me do this." 

Ian nodded. "OK." He stood up, leant back against the wall. 

Mickey eyed his cock, then glanced up at Ian's face. One of his hands found Ian's waist. His ass. "This is why I didn't want to do it like this." 

He glanced down again. 

Ian watched him carefully. "I know." 

Mickey licked his lips. Licked across his palm. 

"Why I had the rules." 

"I know." 

Mickey took Ian's cock in his hand, beginning to stroke. 

"I love you." Mickey admitted. 

"I know, Mick." Mickey looked up at him again. "I love you, too." 

"I'm scared you're going to leave me." Mickey's stroking stilled for a second. "I don't trust you." 

Ian swallowed. Staring at him. "I know." 

Mickey picked up the stroking again. 

"Mick, we don't have to... We can wait..." 

"Do you want this?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then shut up." Mickey wetted his lips once more. "I wanna trust you. I do." 

"Yeah, I know Mickey, and we can wait if you want. We can wait until then." 

Mickey paused. Stared at him, eyebrows raised. "I want this. Do you?" 

Ian nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." 

Mickey swallowed him down, half sucking, half jerking with his tattooed hand, and Ian leant into the wall, wrapped his hands in Mickey's hair, as Mickey got further and further around him. 

Fuck, it felt good. And fuck, he missed Mickey. And he just wanted Mickey to be OK. 

Mickey bobbed up and down on him, tightening, humming. His eyes sometimes flicking up. Blue and black under eyelashes. You're not a little bitch, Mickey. _Jesus_. Fuck. OK. 

Ian pulled him off. 

Mickey startled, his lips swollen, eyes panicked. 

"Hey," Ian said, "Hey, that was good. Really good." 

"You wanna get on me?" 

Ian shook his head. "No. Not yet. Not right now." 

He reached down to help Mickey up off the ground. Mickey reluctantly got up. 

"You didn't come." He said quietly. Closing up. 

Ian dragged a hand back over Mickey's head. Over his hair, pulling Mickey in towards him. He couldn't mess this up now. 

"I'm worried about you." Ian stroked his hand down across Mickey's cheek, holding him under his jaw. 

Mickey stared at him. "I fucked up. I shouldn't've..."

Ian shook his head. "No. You didn't fuck up."

They looked at each other. This had probably been their chattiest ever banging session. Not banging session. Whatever. 

"I want to take it slow." Ian said. Mickey blinked. Looked down, reddening. 

Shit. The last thing he wanted was for Mickey to think he'd disappointed him or something. When really it was...

"I can't do this if you don't trust me." Ian carried on. "I want to wait." 

Mickey stared at him. Nodded. "I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to push you, or -" 

"No, you didn't. You didn't, OK?" 

Mickey nodded. Bit at his top lip.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked. 

Ian smiled. "What about rule number one?" 

Mickey grinned one of his dumb blinding grins. He was OK. He was OK, thank God. He leant up to Ian's mouth, licked into it. He murmured, pushing Ian backwards towards the bed. "Fuck rule number one." 

*

They lay in bed together, wrapped around each other sometimes, kissing sometimes, and other times just lying apart. Smoking. Looking at each other. 

"Fuck. Having you here makes me horny, man." 

Ian kissed him again. "Me too." 

"Might have to go jerk off." 

"Want me to do it for you?" 

They stared at each other. 

"I don't know, Ian. You just said we had to wait to do shit like that." 

"Yeah. Sorry." 

"New fucking rules, huh." 

"Yeah." Ian reached over to play with Mickey's hair, combing a fallen strand back in place with his fingers. 

"Ian." 

"Mickey, if this is going to work, you've gotta... both of us have to... but. You've got to tell me what you're thinking. What you're worrying about. It's not going to scare me off."

Mickey was quiet for a moment, looking at him. Waiting. "Whatever." 

"Mick, I'm serious." 

"Yeah, me too. So what if I don't open up then you'll leave me?" 

"No." Ian kissed him again, hard, pressing him down into the mattress. "I'm not going to leave you." 

" _Fuck_ , Ian. I've gotta jerk off now." 

Ian laughed. "OK. Think about me?" 

"Obviously." 

Ian took his meds while Mickey was gone, and when he came back he pulled Mickey towards him without reservation, wrapped him up in his arms, onto his chest. 

"I'm worried tomorrow you're gonna... you're gonna go anyway." Mickey mumbled into him, just about audible. "And that means I've missed my last chance. To have you." 

Ian pressed him close. Kissed the top of his head. 

"I'm not going to leave you." 

*

"I'm getting smokes. You two want coffee?" 

"Yeah, and smokes." 

"Fine. Ian?" 

"Sure, Mick. Thanks." 

"Since when did he become Ian, assface? Thought he was _Gallagher_ now." 

Mickey gave her the finger as he went. "He's always been Ian." 

Mandy and Ian grinned at each other as Mickey went into the store. 

"This mean you're coming to Mexico with us?" 

Ian nodded. Mandy threw her arms around him. 

*

"What if you don't like it in Mexico?" 

Back on the road, Mickey driving with Ian next to him. Mandy in the back. Ian in the car still. Still with them. 

"Huh?" 

"Thinking of all the reasons you might leave." 

"Great. Thanks Mick. Uh. If I don't like it in Mexico, we'll have to move somewhere else." 

"I don't wanna move somewhere else." 

"Then we'll stay and I'll learn to like Mexico." 

"You'll fucking love Mexico," Mandy chimed in. "Especially Mickey's place. Puerto Vallarta. Sun. Beach. Gays. Burritos." 

"Yeah that sounds really good, Mick. I think I'll like it fine." 

"Better not like it too much." Mickey turned to glare at him. 

"OK. So your two reasons so far why Ian might leave are: he doesn't like Mexico and he likes Mexico too much? Anymore for anymore?" 

"He might get tired of me like every other fucking time." 

Quiet. Except the radio. Ian looking at Mickey. He'd wanted this. Mickey to tell him how he felt. He'd never realised before this trip quite how insecure Mickey was, but it... it made sense... and Ian hadn't helped, not at all. He wanted to be better now. To reassure him. To help him feel OK. That's all he wanted anymore, to help make Mickey feel good, safe, OK. 

" _Jesus_. Mickey. You want another joint or something?" 

"Fuck off, Mandy. You know what I mean." 

"I'm not going to get tired of you." 

"Sure." 

"I've never gotten tired of you." 

"Whatever." 

"I'm sorry that you think I've gotten tired of you." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

"I love you." 

"Fuck off. I know." 

"I'm not going to leave you." 

"Could you two shut the fuck up now please." 

They did. Mickey's hand dropped on Ian's thigh for two seconds, before taking up the gearshift again. 

*

"Hey Mickey, you know where you're going?" 

"Yeah," Ian cut in. "Don't worry Mands. We did this bit last time. Just before. You know."

"You mean just before you left me like a little bitch?" 

"Mickey."

"Why d'you always say being a 'bitch' like it's the worst thing ever? Being a bitch is badass." 

"She's right."

"Fuck you." 

Mickey started to smile, though. A few minutes later he watched Ian out the side of his eye as he drove. His voice was quiet.

"You wanna be my bitch?" 

Ian's grin took over his whole face. He shook his head lightly. "Yeah, Mick. I'd love to." 

A moment later. Even quieter. "I wanna be your bitch too." 

"You can be my boyfriend." 

Mickey gave him those eyes and Ian held his gaze, until Mickey had to concentrate on the road again. 

"Mandy, you wanna drive?" 

"For fuck's sake, you two. Yeah I'll drive, asshole." 

When they pulled over, Mickey didn't need to ask, but he did, anyway. Turned to Ian. Swiped his thumb under his bottom lip. 

"Come to the back with me?"

Ian just nodded, and both their faces split into smiles as they got in together. Shit. 

As Mandy pulled away, Mickey immediately swiped his hand up Ian's thigh, pulled him to his lips, cupping his jaw and sucking at his mouth. Rolled against him, gripping the back of his neck. 

Mandy honked the horn. "Are you fucking kidding?!"

They pulled away from each other. Ian stretched his legs out and put Mickey's over his, so he was in his lap. He lit him a cigarette, and rolled a hand between his boyfriend's thighs, stroking lightly, staring into his eyes. 

"I want to fuck you." Mickey murmured, taking a drag of the smoke he'd been given. 

"I know, me too." Ian smiled, stroking lightly again. Leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. To whisper in his ear. "In Mexico." 

Mickey's eyelashes fluttered as Ian pulled away. 

* 

Mickey wanted Ian driving over the border again. Ian driving. Mandy next to him. Mickey in the back. 

"And my name is fucking Clarence, OK?" 

He'd got Mandy fake papers with a different last name too, just in case there was any heat on Milkovich, and Ian well... Ian was a tiny bit of a risk.

"You think I should let you guys go first? Hitchhike down and meet you somewhere on the way?" 

"Fucking _no_." Mickey kicked his seat from behind. 

"It'll be fine. Just be cool, Ian." Mandy brought an arm around him, playing with his hair. 

And it was fine. 

They got through. 

***

 

The sky was clear blue, the color warmed up by Ian's sunglasses, and Ian had a feeling that it was bigger than it had been an hour or so ago in Texas, like it expanded further away from him. 

Mandy had climbed to the back to compare who out of her and Mickey was paler. Mickey was only just more tanned, even though he'd spent three years in the sunshine. 

They were asleep now though. Maybe some kind of relief. Letting go of a tension they had been holding. 

Ian was a bit jealous of them, and could've used their help to figure out road signs and directions. Every so often a feeling like he was going the wrong way clenched in his gut.

Things were different here. Strange. And he was scared. 

He kept thinking about Chicago. About the cold. About Lip and Carl and Fiona and Liam and Debbie and Frannie. Even Frank crossed his mind. He imagined Frank here in Mexico and then he tried to get rid of the image. 

But things were kind of similar to the U.S. here too. Similar to Texas. Just on the road still. It wasn't like something huge and drastic had happened in the crossing from Texas into Mexico. 

Ian could still go back. It didn't matter that he was over some arbitrary border. 

It meant that Mickey wasn't in quite so much danger now though. Every so often Ian took his eyes off the road and turned in his seat to look at Mandy and Mickey, legs curled up and and on top of one another. They were so beautiful and soft in the light. 

A couple of sleeping Milkoviches in the back. Trusting. Safe. Ian couldn't believe how lucky he was. 

*

He had to wake Mickey and Mandy up when he finally decided to call it a day. He had driven a long way, but there was still plenty more to do before they would get to Mickey's. _Mickey's_. Still weird to think that Mickey had a place here. That it could be Ian's place too. Three years late but at least he was here now. Mickey had just set it all up for them. 

They both startled when Ian woke them, but they settled down quickly. Maybe one day they would stop waking up like that. 

"Where abouts are we, man?" 

"Zacatecas." 

"OK. We have to sort your accent out." 

Mickey rubbed at his eyes and Mandy stretched out her neck. Their clothes were creased and had made creases on their skin. On Mickey's cheek. On Mandy's arm. 

"Can't believe I was out of it for that long." Mandy scratched her eyebrow. 

"You tired?" Mickey asked him, reaching out to stroke Ian's jaw. 

Ian nodded.

"I'll get us a room, OK?" 

* 

Ian showered, took his meds, and then went straight for the bed, pulling the covers over him, even though it was warm.

"Me and Mandy are going to get a few beers. You be alright?" 

Ian nodded. 

Mickey leant down to him and kissed him, gentle and firm. He rested his forehead against Ian's briefly before he pulled away, looked at him, and left.

Ian curled up on the bed and went to sleep. 

He woke up a little bit when Mickey came back and folded his arms around him.

*

Ian hadn't realised last night how beautiful the town they were in was. Small, colorful stone houses, grass and trees, slight rolling hills. 

"Want me to drive again?" 

"No, man. I got it. You just relax and look pretty." Mickey's eyes scanned over Ian's face as they sat down next to each other in the car. "We'll be home soon." 

Home. The word stirred a whole world of emotions, a loosening of the tightness in Ian's chest. 

Maybe he could start to think of home as forwards instead of backwards. As here in the car with him. He couldn't look at Mickey for a while, feeling too much, and not knowing exactly what. Home. Southside. Chicago. Gallaghers. Home. Puerto Vallarta. Mickey. Milkoviches. 

Mickey was visibly more relaxed on this side of the border, less tense even just sitting and driving. Throwing around the word home. Maybe he could start to trust Ian again now. Maybe he was starting to know that Ian wouldn't leave him. 

Maybe. 

It probably wouldn't happen over night. Over a few nights. Over an international border. 

Ian knew he had to actually do it. Actually stay and actually take care of him. He could do that, right? He could do that. 

Mandy was reading a Spanish phrase book in the back. She kept reading stuff out and Mickey kept correcting her. 

Ian tapped the dashboard to the beat of the Mexican tunes on the radio. 

It got less and less grassy as they went, and rock faces started to come out from the road, scattered with weeds. They snacked on quesadillas. The air was different too. Balmy. Herby. 

Mickey talked about Puerto Vallarta. He just called it Vallarta. About his job as a bartender. About how he thought Ian and Mandy could try getting jobs teaching English. About how it would help being in a place that was so touristy while they started to learn Spanish. 

Then it got flat again, fields and farms and towns. Later they went past shallow mountains and olive trees. A windy road through raggedy orange land. Yellow grass and wispy clouds in the blue sky in front. The mountains got higher, the land greener and the air mistier. Then scattered palm trees and houses built up around them. And then they saw the sea. Clear blue and hidden by big patches of trees to their right. Neither Mandy nor Ian could take their eyes off it. 

They'd been driving for fucking ages, only stopping for gas and snacks. Mickey told them they could do a road trip around Mexico another time. Right now all he could talk about was home. Home. Home. Taking you two back home. 

The road ran down the coast for a while, away from the ocean and then back again. The Pacific. 

It took a while before they got a clear sight of it, at the bottom of a town which rolled down towards it, and then it just got bigger and bigger, stretching out into the distance.

"Mickey!" 

"Mick." 

"We've got to stop, come on! We've got to go in." 

"Mick, please."

Mickey pretended to think about it. He grinned. 

"OK. In a bit though. There's a better beach further along." 

The sun was setting over the sea when they stopped. The orange sky making the water bluer. Kind of like Mickey's eyes, Ian thought. Fuck he was feeling sentimental. He blamed it on the long journey and the sea air. 

They climbed over rocks to reach the sand. Ian and Mandy kicked off their shoes and ran in. Mickey watched them for a bit, opening up a bag of chips. It wasn't long before they came for him and dragged him in. 

It was dark when they got back in the car, Mickey grumbling about wasting time, not finding the way his jeans were crusted with sea-water funny, thanks very fucking much. 

Ian offered to drive but they were basically there anyway and Mickey knew the route. 

Mickey had a two-bedroom apartment in a suburb called el Pitillai, basically in the town as far as Ian could tell, in the dark. 

Getting out of Golfy for the last time of the trip felt strange. It was just a small run of the mill blue car but Ian maybe kind of loved it. They'd been through a lot together. 

Mickey's apartment was the top floor of a two-story house. White. Pretty much identical to the ones next to it. 

"Chick called Gabriela lives downstairs. She's alright." 

That was basically a glowing endorsement from Mickey so Ian smiled as he followed the other two around the flat. There had been so much to take in today. He didn't know if he just wanted to collapse again. Or if he wanted Mickey. If he needed Mickey. 

"D'you think she'll make us some food?" Mandy asked, going back to the door so she could find out. 

"Fucking... Mandy. I don't wanna fucking..." _explain_ you two was left unsaid. "I got some beans or something." 

"Beans." Mandy repeated. "Yeah that sounds _great_." 

* 

"You OK?" 

Ian was lying on Mickey's bed. He'd left the others at dinner early, had a nap digesting all of Gabriela's cooking, then taken a shower. Now he was just lying on the bed, taking in the Mickeyness of the space. Shit cluttered everywhere, check. Mickey's fucking champion hoarding skills still seemed to function in Mexico. The smell of Mickey but also the smell of this town. The place was so familiar and at the same time not familiar at all. New and imprinted with Mickey at the same time. 

"Think so." Ian said eventually. "Kinda scared." He admitted.

Mickey nodded.

"OK." 

Mickey left again. He hadn't sounded particularly comforting or accepting and Ian wondered if he'd fucked up with his answer. A moment later, he heard the shower turning on, and couldn't stop himself imagining Mickey under the spray, his body relaxing, the muscles in his back, his skin shining with water. 

He thought about how frightened and lonely Mickey must have been, when he first came here, on his own. He closed his eyes and willed the hollow feeling in his gut away. 

When Mickey came back Ian felt a gentle hand run over his head, but Mickey drew back quickly when Ian opened his eyes. 

"Fuck. Thought you were asleep." 

"Creepy." 

"You wanna go to sleep?" 

"No." Ian sat up. "Do you?" 

Mickey shook his head. He got up and pulled off the shirt he had just put on after his shower. It clung to his wet skin slightly. Made damp from his hair. 

Ian watched. "Still think I'm gonna leave?" 

Mickey glanced at him, eyes hard. 

"Better not." 

He threw the shirt on the bed, next to Ian. 

"But do you believe that I'll stay?" 

Mickey bit his bottom lip, narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe." 

"But?" 

Mickey crossed his arms. "This fucking Texas rules? Should I put the shirt back on? We gonna have a conversation?" 

Ian shrugged. "Yeah, but you can leave it off." 

Mickey grinned and put it back on, giving Ian a soft jab in his ribs. 

"But?" Ian repeated, and Mickey sobered. 

"Now I got you here, I can tell you how pissed I am." 

Ian sighed. Sure, OK. 

"I'm sorry I left you last time, Mickey." 

"S'OK. I get that. It makes sense now. Still mad at you for other stuff, though." 

"Like what?" 

"Like when you punched me in the face and called me a faggot." 

Yeah. OK. _Fuck_. Ian's chest tightened all over again. He drew his legs up to his body.

"Mick, I'm so fucking sorry about that. That was... Jesus, Mickey. I'm... I would never hit you again. I swear." 

"Yeah, I fucking know _that_. Fucking obviously you'll never hit me again. Same, by the way." 

That was obvious too. Blindingly obvious. They had both grown a lot since then. In Mickey's case, got out of a horrible situation. 

"And I'll never - I'll never call you that again. I know..." He looked into Mickey's eyes. He couldn't say it, but they both knew it. Knew that's what Terry used to call Mickey. Knew that's what Terry had said when he called Svetlana over. Knew that was part of why Mickey startled awake, why he drank so much, why he was so self-protective and what made him feel unsafe. "I'm sorry, Mickey." 

Mickey nodded.

"You know I didn't know which thing you were going to say you were mad at me about. There's been so much shit. I've done so much stupid shit." 

"Yeah, but..." Mickey sighed. "You were really unwell and I knew you were getting unwell. It was fucking obvious. I just couldn't deal and I let it get way out of hand. I let you get so unsafe."

Ian wiped his hands down his face. They were there again. Back here. _You're sick, Ian_. The hardest conversations they had ever had. But this was... he'd never heard Mickey say that. He didn't know Mickey blamed himself for _that_. 

"It's not your fault I cheated on you Mickey." 

Mickey closed his eyes. They were glassy when he opened them again. Ian knew that was the thing that hurt the most. He thought Mickey might shut this conversation down now, that he was done. 

"OK. But I don't blame you for that either." 

Ian watched him as he rubbed at an eye with his palm, trying to swallow back the tears. Mickey said he didn't blame him, but maybe he should. Ian had obviously hurt him. Hurt him a lot. This was why it had been so hard to stay with him back then. Like watching Mickey self-destruct. Wanting to be with Ian, thinking Ian was good, when Ian was... so clearly bad for him, and for everyone. Ian was older now though and he could recognise that he'd been through a lot of shit then too, even though he'd acted really badly, and that those feelings of failure had made him act so much worse.

Still, it was always going to be harder for Ian to forgive himself than it was for Mickey to forgive him.

Mickey. Full of so much love and generosity and where the hell did he find it? In the Milkovich house? How the fuck did he get it? 

"I love you." 

Mickey cast his eyes down, surprised, and then he chuckled. 

"Fuck, man. Are you going to say that to me every day?" 

Ian smiled back. 

"Yeah." 

"Going to start losing its meaning." 

Ian shook his head, serious, again. 

"Never."

Mickey sighed, ran his fingers into Ian's hair, and drew Ian's head towards his own, angling Ian so that their mouths slotted together, sucking at Ian's bottom lip, and then pressing his tongue into his mouth. They drew apart after a moment. 

"Fuck, it gets me these incredible kisses too." 

Mickey shook his head at Ian, refusing to smile at his corny line. 

"I'm meant to be telling you I'm mad at you. Jesus, I'm so far gone." 

"You told me that already." Ian was quiet. "I got it. I get it." 

"I want you to fuck me so badly." Mickey stared at him, a bead of water dripping down his forehead from his wet black hair. "I've been wanting it for so long." 

Ian nodded. He could almost feel his pupils dilating. 

He gripped the bottom of Mickey's damp and overtaxed shirt and pulled it up, over Mickey's head. He placed his hands flat onto Mickey's bare chest, pushing him so he lay back. 

"Yeah. Let me take care of you, OK?" 

Ian could feel Mickey's heartbeat quicken under his hands. 

"OK." 

He pushed Mickey, encouraging him to shuffle a little so he was in the centre of the bed, near the headboard. Ian kissed him once they'd moved, slow and soft, then slid off Mickey's boxers, so he was naked under him. 

Mickey reached for Ian's shirt but Ian pinned his hand back, next to his head. 

"This OK?" Ian asked, nodding towards their hands. 

"It's good." Mickey licked his lips. He moved his other hand to the same position on the other side. "Yeah. Hold me down." 

Ian let go for a moment, pulled Mickey's legs apart so he could crawl up, and then gripped hold of both Mickey's wrists, pinning down his arms either side of his head. 

"You like this?" Ian clarified, just wanting to hear him say it. He knew. 

"Yeah." Mickey breathed. He wriggled his wrists, testing the constraint under Ian's hands. "Hang on a minute." 

Ian let him break one free. Mickey moved one of Ian's hands to his neck, placing it around his throat. This was new. Ian's hand was loose. Gentle. He stroked the skin there, feeling the girth of Mickey's neck, the muscles. 

"You like this?" Ian asked, a different tone, surprised, uncertain, interested. 

"Yeah." Mickey tipped his head back, exposing more of his neck. He looked at Ian under his eyelids. "Tighter." 

Ian held it a bit tighter. Not too tight. Mickey hummed under his hand. This might be good for later. Or next time. Or whenever. 

It was so good going this slowly. Getting to explore Mickey again. Mickey not being impatient. It was incredible really. Ian wondered how long both of them could keep this up.  


He moved his hand down to Mickey's chest, and started to pinch a nipple. 

Mickey let out a small whine, caught in the back of his throat. The nipple was already hard. Ian circled his fingers around it. Pinching, rubbing, pinching again. One hand still pinning Mickey's back. He brought his mouth down to suck Mickey's other nipple and Mickey's back-arched. He moaned. Ian flicked it with his tongue. Squeezed the other one. Mickey reached out a hand to grip the top of Ian's head and Ian took the wrist in his own and pinned it back again. Quick. 

"Fuck." Mickey breathed. "Ian come on." 

"You want to play with them yourself?" Ian flicked the nipple with his tongue another time. "While I sort some other stuff out." 

Mickey nodded, licking his lips again. "Yeah." 

"Yeah." Ian repeated, letting go of Mickey's wrists. He waited until Mickey brought his own hands to each nipple, circling and rubbing over the hard nubs, before he drew down Mickey's body, watching Mickey play with himself for a moment, his open mouth, his eyes dark and following Ian. 

Ian put a pillow under his ass and drew his legs further apart. Ran his hands up Mickey's thighs, so thick and strong and soft, into the insides of his ass cheeks, smooth and round. He picked Mickey's legs up and put them over his shoulders, kissing the juncture of Mickey's ass and his thigh. 

Mickey had stopped moving his hands, was watching him. 

"Keep going, Mickey."

Ian was concentrating on Mickey's ass but he could see that Mickey didn't move his hands. 

"You gonna eat me out?" 

Ian looked at Mickey, through his thighs. He was lying there, staring at Ian, mouth open, lips wet. 

"You like that?" Ian asked and Mickey tipped his head back and laughed. 

"Yes. I fucking like that." He grinned at Ian. "You know I like that." 

He swatted Ian's head with his foot, settling back again. 

"Do I fucking like that?" He asked himself, unbelievingly. 

Ian grinned, tickling Mickey's thigh. Repositioned his legs slightly on his shoulders. Dipped his head back down to Mickey's ass. 

"Keep going with your nipples." 

"How bout you keep going with my ass?" 

Ian grinned, and licked across the hole. Mickey sighed. Shifted. Sighed again. 

"I'm gonna need some lube, Mick." 

Mickey groaned. 

"You couldn'ta got that fucking sorted before, Gallagher?" 

Ian shook his head, putting Mickey's legs back on the bed. "Shit. Demoted to 'Gallagher' for bad lube prep." 

"Damn right you are, army. Second drawer." 

The second drawer of Mickey's dresser was, true to form, chockablock with sex toys. 

"Hmm," Ian raised an eyebrow at it. "You want anything else while I'm here?" 

Mickey snorted. Then sobered. "Condom." 

"Yeah? You know I'm --" 

"Just for a while." 

"OK." 

Ian grabbed a pack and grabbed Mickey's twenty-five-ounce bottle of lube. This kind of shit about Mickey made him smile. Pleasure in bulk. 

He dropped them next to Mickey on the bed, looking down at the naked man. 

"How are the nipples?" 

Mickey shook his head at him, but the corners of his mouth soon turned up into a huge grin, sticking his tongue into his cheek. "Lonely." He laughed at himself. "But not as lonely as my ass." 

Ian groaned, grinning a little as he settled back down, picking up Mickey's legs and putting them on his shoulders again. "I'm here now." He told Mickey's ass before he licked another stripe across the hole, moved and held Mickey's thighs up onto Mickey's body and pushed his tongue inside. 

"Fuck." Mickey breathed. Ian kept pressing his tongue inside. Full and flat. Licking. Sucking. Filling. "Ian, fuck. Come on." 

Ian pulled back, getting lube onto his fingers. "See - you say you fucking like it and then you can handle it for about two seconds." 

"See how many you can fucking hand--" Ian slipped two fingers into Mickey. 

Mickey's back arched. He tightened around Ian's fingers. 

He felt so good. 

Ian pumped them in and out, stretching Mickey's ass. Mickey reached down to jerk himself but Ian swatted his hand away. Ian pumped his cock himself his other hand. Slowly. Mickey writhed underneath him, his body quivering, gradually coming apart. Ian leant down to suck on his ass cheek, using a bit of teeth, a small mark, and then up to bite one of Mickey's thighs. 

Mickey groaned. Ian took the fingers out, still dripping with lube and dragged them up Mickey's body to rub over Mickey's nipples again. He filled Mickey's ass with two fingers from his other hand.

Mickey grabbed the back of his hand on his nipple, making him press harder. Ian let him do it for a second, before he gripped Mickey's wrist and pinned the hand back by his head again, bending Mickey's body as he went. 

"Fuck." Mickey breathed, bucking up, biting his lip. He brought his other hand down to his nipple and stuck his tongue out and raised an eyebrow as he rubbed it, and Ian grabbed that one with the hand that had been stretching him out and pinned it back too. Mickey grinned. Raised his eyebrows. "OK, tough guy." 

Ian stared at him, at his sticky torso, his wet hair, his dark eyes. His hard cock. His body open under Ian's grip. Challenging but pliant. Happy. 

Ian kissed him. A hard tongue into Mickey's mouth, licking, digging, exploring, and Mickey gave him all that back, harder, reaching his neck up to kiss him deeper. 

Ian's cock was straining behind his boxer shorts. Dripping. He was still wearing a shirt, even.

" _Ian._ " 

"Yeah?" 

"Fuck me." 

"Please?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes. Ian kissed him once more. Took off his own shirt and shorts. Rolled the condom onto his cock. Kissed Mickey's ass cheek again, pulled his legs up over his shoulders. Pushed inside him. He grunted. 

Mickey bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut. He clenched around Ian. 

Ian stared at his face. Gave his slightly flagging cock a few strokes. This face. He loved this face. He hadn't seen it for so long. 

He felt so good. There was a condom in the way but it was still so good. 

"Mickey." 

"Yeah. M'good." Mickey's mouth moved without talking. His eyes were squeezing tighter, thighs clenching around Ian. "Go." 

Ian grunted, gripped Mickey's wrists to the bed again, and starting moving, just in and out, just one thrust. Just two. 

" _Ian._ " 

"Open your eyes."

Mickey swallowed. He opened them. 

Ian moved again, watching Mickey's eyes for a moment, then bent down to kiss him, moving in and out of Mickey's ass, with Mickey moaning and writhing underneath him. Gripping his wrists. 

He kept going. He moved a hand tentatively over to Mickey's throat. Mickey gripped his biceps with his free hand. Tight. Fuck. 

Ian put his hand around his neck. Trying not to squeeze even though he felt like he fucking needed to grip onto something. In and out. Grunting. 

Mickey took the hand off again, pushed it back down onto his wrist onto the bed. Mickey's own hand was shaking. 

"Not--" Mickey got out, breathing heavily. "Later--." "--Fuck." Mickey bit into his lip again. "--Maybe." 

Ian changed the angle he was thrusting slightly and it made Mickey moan. Ian's grip tightened on Mickey's hands, squeezing them, and then he left them to hold Mickey's thighs, thick and strong, to move them up and change the angle again even more, and watch Mickey's face screw up and feel his body tighten around him. His arms move to grip his back. To pull Ian towards him. 

"Ian, I'm gonna--" 

"OK," Ian went back to Mickey's cock, jerking it, in time with the thrusts. "Come, Mick. It's OK." 

"Hang--" Panic flashed in Mickey's eyes "Ian--Wait." 

Ian stopped. A wash of anxiety starting to flood him --

"Don't fucking stop!" 

Ian started again, slowly. Swallowing. Calming. It took a while but then Mickey found his voice again. "Fucking _harder_. Go harder before I come." 

"Yeah? Deeper too?" 

"Fucking harder and deeper. Yeah." Ian sped up, he gripped onto Mickey's thighs, finding a good place where he could do that for Mickey. Give Mickey what he wanted. What he liked. 

"You like that, don't you? Hard and deep." 

"I fucking love that." Ian shifted. Moved. Hard and deep.

Fuck Ian didn't know how he'd lasted this long. Just watching Mickey fall apart under him. Just watching his faces. Feeling him, his heat, his strength, the way his body writhed under him. Wanting to see more. Feel more. Wanting to last for him. 

Mickey came. He gripped his fingers into Ian's back. Scratching. Indenting. His body trembling as Ian jerked his cock, rode him through his orgasm. Good. Mickey was so good. 

"That's good." Ian told him. "You're so good." 

Mickey stared at him, his fingernails relenting, easing on Ian's back. Tips of his fingers soft over where he'd probably left marks. Gentle. He dragged his hands up to Ian's head and pulled it down towards him, to his mouth, to kiss him. 

A few more thrusts and Ian came too. Closing his eyes and burying himself into Mickey. Falling into him, his neck, his smell, their smell. Engulfed by it. All around them. In Mickey's room. All over their sticky bodies. All over Mickey's sheets. All over his bed, his chest, his ass.

Ian pulled out and Mickey made a soft sound. Bringing him back and demanding another kiss. It was firm, tight, long. Their teeth clashed together but their mouths were wet and hot and Mickey tasted so good. 

Ian pulled away to chuck his condom. When he looked at Mickey's face again, Mickey was grinning. Fucked up hair still damp, swollen lips, blown out eyes. Grinning like this small cluttered room was paradise. 

" _Fuck._ " Mickey pulled Ian back towards him, down onto him. "Fuck, that was good."

"Yeah?"

Mickey snorted, slapping Ian's stomach lightly. "Fucking _yeah_. You know _yeah_." 

"Yeah." Ian admitted, crawling into him, slotting their legs together, and pressing his chest against Mickey's. He lifted a hand to Mickey's face, to cup his jaw, and run his thumb over his cheek. He watched him settle down under him, watched Mickey nuzzle into his hand. 

"You were so chatty." Mickey said, quietly. 

"You like that?" Ian was quiet too. 

"Yeah." Mickey licked his lips. "I like it when you hold me down." 

"I know." 

"I still want to suck you off." 

Ian smiled. "I know. Want that too." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Yeah, Mick. Tomorrow." 

They were quiet for a while. Mickey reached for his smokes, untangling their bodies slightly. 

"If you're still around." He murmured. 

Ian stared at him. Panic. Chest tightening. 

"Mickey." He breathed. "I'm not going to leave you." 

Mickey looked down at him. Eyes serious. 

"I know. Just wanted to hear you say it again." 

He raised his eyebrows and laughed.


End file.
